


Brothers

by stoprobbers



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Background Relationships, Minor Eleven/Mike Wheeler, Minor Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Post-Episode: s02e09 The Gate, Post-Season/Series 02, hey AO3 can i get a Jonathan Byers & Mike Wheeler tag please, mentions of just about everyone else - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 04:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14036526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stoprobbers/pseuds/stoprobbers
Summary: When Jonathan speaks Mike doesn't know if the question he was trying to hold back has broken free or if he's decided to ask something else. Either way, he sounds pained."Can you--" the words seem to get stuck in his throat and Mike looks back in time to see Jonathan's jaw clench before he forces them out. "Can you tell me what happened?"





	Brothers

He needs to clear his head.

It feels like Eleven should be back by now; it feels like hours and hours have passed since the terror in the tunnels, the heat of licking flames and vines around his ankles and screaming at Dustin and Steve, sure they're about to die. Maybe it hasn't. Maybe they've only been back for minutes. 

But it feels like hours.

He's not sure where Eleven and Hopper are, or when Will is going to emerge from the bath or his bed or his mother's hovering to prove to them all that he's okay, that he's survived this. There's a weight on his chest and a vise around his lungs.

The Byers' house is preoccupied; Lucas with Max, Dustin with Steve, Nancy with Jonathan, Mrs. Byers with Will. No one seems to be preoccupied with him.

And, honestly, that's fine. More than fine. He doesn't want or need the attention anyway. The last day has been filled with screams. He appreciates the quiet.

He wants to hide, but he also wants to know when Eleven gets back so he slips silently out the front door and carefully settles himself on the Byers' porch swing, making sure it doesn't move or squeak. Equally carefully, he pulls up one leg and then the other, setting his feet on the seat so he can drop his forehead to his knees and hide in the dark he's made there.

He takes a long, deep breath and lets it out with only a minimal shudder. Does it again, feeling his pulse gradually start to slow.

Whatever progress he's made in calming down is ruined when the porch swing suddenly moves, when another body drops onto it without grace. He jumps, jerks his head up to scold Dustin or Lucas, to ask for some space.

But it's not Dustin, or Lucas, or even Nancy. Jonathan is still covered in sweat, his shirt stained and his hair stringy, and he's looking at him with that careful, penetrating expression Mike has seen aimed at Will a million times. Seen it aimed, occasionally, at Nancy too. He never realized just how effective that look is.

"Hey," Jonathan says softly. 

"Hi," Mike echoes, heart still pounding. It must be audible in his voice because Jonathan winces a little.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"S'okay," Mike says. Scoots over to put a little space in between them. Jonathan leans back, still looking, still searching his expression.

The silence stretches between them but there's no tension. Mike returns his gaze to the Byers' driveway, wonders if he can get away with putting his head back on his knees.

"Are you alright?" Jonathan asks. His voice has still barely risen above the volume of a murmur. It's unexpectedly soothing. Briefly, for just a flash, he wonders about Will's nightmares, about how many nights Jonathan must have sat with him, probably using this same voice to comfort his little brother.

He wonders if Will's screams in his sleep sounded like his screams in the lab, or if that was the thing inside of him making his voice so raw.

"Fine," he answers, clamping down on those memories. The vise returns, tightens a little, and he struggles to draw a breath.

Jonathan's gaze doesn't waver and he doesn't move, but Mike suddenly feels as if he's under a microscope. The older boy's brows draw together a little, as if he doesn’t believe him (and he shouldn't, he _really_ shouldn't), and worries his lip like he's trying to hold back a question. Mike shifts and looks away.

When Jonathan speaks Mike doesn't know if the question he was trying to hold back has broken free or if he's decided to ask something else. Either way, he sounds pained.

"Can you--" the words seem to get stuck in his throat and Mike looks back in time to see Jonathan's jaw clench before he forces them out. "Can you tell me what happened?"

It's not until he says it aloud that Mike realizes, truly realizes, that Jonathan had been gone. He hadn't been at the Byers' when he'd shown up looking for Will, or the morning after their sleepover. He hadn't been anywhere until he was suddenly pulling up to the lab in his battered, rusty old Ford with Nancy in the passenger seat, screaming for them to get in.

Too much had happened for Mike to care at the time, but now that he's been asked he wonders just where Will's older brother had disappeared to and how long Nancy had been with him.

The petulant adolescent inside him wants to poke and prod, but there is something raw and bleeding in Jonathan's eyes and a bulge in his cheek where his jaw works and Mike decides to take pity on him and just answer.

"I don't know if it started on Halloween, but that's the first time Will told me about it," he says.

Jonathan's eyes are dark and when he names the holiday something horrible flashes there, almost stops him in his tracks. He understands distantly that what he's about to tell Jonathan is not going to make anything better, but he also understands that Will's older brother needs to know.

So he presses forward. Keeps his eyes studiously on his knees; he doesn't think he can tell Jonathan about this while looking him in the eye.

He tells him about Halloween, about the thing Dustin found and named and let escape, about the episode in the field and the drawings on the wall and the search for Hopper. He tells him about Will screaming – screaming in the field as the agents burned the Upside Down's roots and in the lab, screaming to let him go, screaming that Mike was lying. As he speaks he remembers the feeling of his palms pressing against his ears, trying to block out the horror spilling from his best friend's mouth. He tightens his fingers around his knees to keep from doing it again.

He doesn't know if he's ever going to stop hearing those screams.

"He tried to be brave," he hears himself say. "He was spying on the Shadow Monster for us, he was trying to help. It just… it got him, in the end. It was too strong, or maybe because he was hurting, maybe because the hive mind made him burn with the roots in the tunnels, he wasn't strong enough to keep control. I don't know. He tried, though. He didn't mean to—it wasn't Will's fault, what happened. To the people in the lab, to Bob, it wasn't his fault."

"Bob?" Jonathan's voice is rough and when Mike looks up his eyes are rimmed red and there's wetness on his cheeks. His face has gone pale, taking on an almost green tinge. There is dread in the tilt of his shoulders.

"Bob was—Bob helped us. With the map. He thought it was a treasure hunt." Mike takes a deep breath. "He got stuck at the lab with us and he helped turn the power back on and then… they got him."

"They?"

"The demodogs."

_They killed him_ , his mind whispers. _They killed him and they ate him_.

Jonathan swallows hard and Mike wonders if he's going to be sick.

He can't say the truth of it aloud. It's too much, too real. Gone is easier. Gone is abstract. Bob is gone; Bob is not ripped to shreds, rotting in a pool of blood with chunks of flesh missing. His belly has not been torn open, the softest parts of him made into a meal. He is simply… not here anymore.

He can barely cope with "gone," though, because he's trembling now, shaking bad enough that Jonathan reaches out and lays a hand carefully over his where they're wrapped around his knees. For a moment they just look at each other.

"You know the rest," Mike says when he can't stand his stare anymore. "What happened in the shed and after."

Jonathan nods slowly; he seems dazed. And so it's a bit of a surprise when he squeezes his hand, strong and firm. Mike doesn't know how he can be steady when _he_ can't seem to stop shaking.

"I'm glad you were there," Jonathan says, and his voice is still so very soft. Mike closes his eyes, trying to block out what he's saying and let it wash over him at the same time. "You're a good friend. His best friend. I'm glad he had you when—"

He cuts himself off suddenly and Mike hears him swallow again. Does the same and feels how much the lump in his own throat hurts.

"I should have been there," Jonathan whispers and shakes his head. "It's my fault. I should have—but since I wasn't, I'm glad you were."

Mike's eyes fly open, his head pops up, and Jonathan actually startles backward in surprise. The porch swing zigzags and they both have to steady themselves a little, brace to keep from falling off.

"It's not your fault," Mike snaps.

"He's my _brother_ —"

"It's _not_. That's a stupid thing to say. You didn't do anything; none of us did. Not even Eleven, and she's the one who actually opened the Gate. This is all _them_ ," he spits the word like it's poison. "The government, the lab. _They're_ the ones who did this. Who tried to make a weapon and broke the world. That's whose fault it is; they're the ones who took Will and killed Barb and fucked everything up, not us. They should burn it to the ground."

Jonathan's eyebrows involuntarily twitch at his cursing, and a wave of irritation washes over him for a moment, the same as it does when Nancy tells him to watch his mouth right after she's finished calling him an asshole. But the teenager doesn't comment on that, instead smiles just at the very corners of his mouth like Mike has said something meaningful. Mike frowns; it's unnerving.

"What?"

Jonathan shakes his head fondly, "You just sound a lot like your sister."

He can feel himself make a face at that, a look of disgust that isn't entirely fair. Nancy isn't awful; she's broken into police stations and fought monsters and apparently gone on some sort of adventure they don't even know about yet. But she's still his annoying and ridiculous sister, even if she's cooler than he used to think.

Which reminds him.

"Were you with her? With Nancy? Wherever she went?"

He doesn't know what he expects Jonathan's answer to be (well, yes he does, he expects it to be 'yes' because why else would she have been in the passenger seat of Jonathan's car, why else would she have gone to the cabin?), but definitely does not expect to see his cheeks and the tips of his ears go red. The older boy shakes his head, moving his hair more into his face giving himself something to hide behind.

Of all the surreal things that have happened in the last two days, this is the one that takes the longest to sink in. When Mike finally places his expression as embarrassment, the new swell of horror within him has nothing to do with monsters and possession and death.

Oh, _ew_.

"We were together," Jonathan confirms and doesn't offer any further details. There's an odd note in his voice Mike can't quite place, but he lets it go in favor of other curiosities.

"Doing what? Where did you guys go, anyway?"

Jonathan's brow furrows and for the first time since he sat down beside him he looks away from Mike's face and off into the darkness at the side of the house. He's still blushing but his jaw is clenching again and Mike feels a wave of frustration wash over him. He is not a _baby_ , he just finished telling the teen about watching people _die,_ whatever it was he was doing with his sister he can _handle it_.

He hates the way teenagers lie; they're terrible at it.

"Side mission." Nancy's voice startles both of them and they turn in tandem to see her standing a few feet away on the porch. She approaches slowly, her eyes on Mike, but instead steps in front of Jonathan and runs her hand through his hair. It's an intimate, comforting gesture and Mike narrows his eyes at it. "I'll tell you about it later."

The swing is rocking again with their movement and she stops it with her thigh before sliding into the space between him and Jonathan, a little more on the older boy's lap than on the swing proper. Mike watches Jonathan's arm snake around her waist, gripping tight, and opens his mouth to ask when Nancy leans forward and pulls him into her arms.

She squeezes and rests her head on the top of his, her mouth not far from his ear and he feels his hair move as she breathes out.

"I'm so glad you're safe," she says, squeezing even tighter. He waits for her to say more but she doesn't, just holds on to him. She's also gritty and sticky with sweat and she reeks – her and Jonathan _both_ do, and he remembers he has questions too, about what happened at the cabin, about whether Will is truly okay.

But this doesn't feel like the time to ask them, and he doesn't want to ask Nancy. It's not that he thinks his sister would lie to him, it's that he knows her version of protection means she will tell him half-truths. Leave out the things she thinks he doesn't need to hear for his own good.

He doesn't think that's what Jonathan will do. He knows Will talks to him about everything. Maybe it's the difference between being a sister and being a brother; Nancy will always cling to her secrets. But brothers, brothers don't lie. Not to each other, at least.

He shifts in her grip so he can hug her back but also so he can look over his shoulder, catch Jonathan's eye. He's not surprised to find the teen already looking back at him. For a moment they simply look at each other, until Jonathan gives a small nod.

Nancy lets him go.

"What were you two talking about?" she says and he doesn't miss the wary note under the forced lightness in her tone. She's still got her hands on his upper arms but she's also leaning back against Jonathan's chest and Mike realizes for the first time just how tired and scared his sister looks, too.

"Brother stuff," Jonathan answers before he can open his mouth. "How's Steve?"

"Seeing double but he won't let anyone take him to the hospital," she sighs and rolls her eyes before raising her eyebrow at Mike. "He says you kidnapped him."

"That's not—" he's about to protest but realizes maybe his sister's ex-boyfriend (and he has to be, right, because she's sitting right there in Jonathan's lap) has a point. "We had to help somehow. El was going in there and she didn't know, you didn't see how many demodogs there were in there. They didn't have a chance. We had to help."

Nancy gives his arms a soft squeeze where she's holding onto him. "You're brave, Mike. Stupid, but very brave. Whatever you did, it worked. Just… don't do it again okay? I don't—I don't want anything to happen to you."

There's a hitch in her voice and tears in her eyes and Mike nods. It's not exactly a promise – he won't make a promise he knows for certain that he'll break – but Nancy looks scared and he doesn't want to be the reason for it. She seems to search his face for something and then nods back.

"We should go home," she says softly. "It's late."

"No!" He shakes off her hands and jumps to his feet. The porch swing rocks and sways sickeningly and Nancy and Jonathan both almost fall off, end up clinging to each other for balance. "No way, not until El and Hopper get back, not until I—I have to see her. I have to make sure she's okay. I _promised_."

Nancy opens her mouth and he's sure she's about to start arguing with him, but to his surprise Jonathan shifts a hand to her shoulder and the words die before they can leave her lips. The two teenagers look carefully at each other for a long moment, locked in some sort of silent conversation, until Jonathan raises his eyebrows and Nancy sighs.

"Fine," she says, "but you're explaining this to Mom."

Mike just nods and watches as Jonathan moves out from behind his sister, offering a hand and pulling her to her feet.

"Do you need anything? Water?" Jonathan asks. Mike shakes his head.

The older boy nods once and then, moving as if he is trying his hardest not to think, steps forward and pulls Mike into a crushing hug. It startles him and it is only instinct that makes him lift his arms, return the embrace. He's never seen Jonathan hug anyone – not Will, not Will's friends, not even Mrs. Byers – has never seen much more physical affection from him than ruffled hair, but his arms are strong and the weight of them is comforting in a different way than Nancy. He feels a tremble go through him, lets out a shuddering breath, and rests his cheek on Jonathan's shoulder for just a moment. When he's able to inhale again the November night air is cold and crisp and it seems to clear some of the pressure behind his eyes and the tension in his neck.

"Thank you," Jonathan whispers and lets him go. Mike watches him take Nancy's hand and lead her to the front door; watches Nancy look between the two of them and furrow her brow.

They step out of a view but the door is still open, the warm light of the Byers' living room spilling out onto the front porch and casting their shadows long. Sees the shadows move as Nancy puts a hand on Jonathan's arm and Jonathan moves his face close to hers before the door closes and the shadows disappear.

He wants to be grossed out, knows he really should be, but he just feels glad that she finally admitted it. He'd known a year ago that she was lying her head off when she told him she didn't like him, just like he lied through his teeth about liking Eleven.

He'd kissed Eleven right before he lost her for a whole year. He isn't going to make that mistake again.

The front porch is quiet once more. He carefully settles back onto the porch swing, trains his eyes on the driveway, and waits.


End file.
